Revenants
Sheltered Flame Keep - Grand Room ---- :''This expansive black-veined white marble chamber, with arched ceilings supported by tall pillars, as at its center a broad red marble brazier. At the north end of this grand hall, one finds a two-level dais: On the lower level, one finds two high-backed biinwood chairs reserved for the Champions of the Flame. On the upper level, one finds a biinwood throne reserved for the Grand Master of the Order of the Flame. :''Behind and above the Grand Master's throne hangs a large black banner bearing the Order Crest: A chainmailed hand gripping a blazing torch. Rays of light spread outward and upward from the illustrated torch. :''Two pairs of high-backed biinwood chairs flank the brazier and are reserved for the Commanders of the Order of the Flame. Against the east and west walls are a total of eight biinwood chairs facing in toward the brazier. These chairs are reserved for the Companions of the Order of the Flame. :''A dais against the south wall supports the biinwood throne reserved for the Lady of the Flame. Double doors on either side of the Grand Master's dais lead to the inner room, while double doors flanking the Lady's dais open into the receiving hall. ---- When in doubt, consult the wisdom of elders... Unfortunately in the case that befalls the newest liege of fallen Light's Reach, Healer of the fallen Council, and Grand Mistress-turned Master of the disbanded Order of the Flame, the elders had been turned to dust, leaving spirits of memory in their place. A silent sort of company. But here they sit together, the duchess perched with poise and elegance of her station atop the Grand Master's throne, Acumen resting with beauty atop her crown. Why? The duchess was bored. And so, sitting here, feeling for the first time the feather weight of the circlet over her brow, Rowena can dwell on conflicting matters, can think of what work lay ahead. And perhaps playfully in girlish fashion imagine herself in that fairytale position of power and grace that she now embodies. From beyond the shadowed misty swirls of the cold night that envelops Fastheld beyond the internal warmth of the Sheltered Flame Keep enters one more spirit to the somewhat macabre council. His pace is somewhat quieter than usual, it seems; a certain clink missing from each step which is noticeable by sheer virtue of its absence as the Prince of the Blood, Serath Kahar, swiftly strolls into the Grand Room - a living revenant among ghosts. The black veins of the white marble forever still beneath his feet, Serath seems to slow in step as he finds and then notices his quarry, and her position (and, indeed, choice of dress) within this echo of former Mikin glory; the chainmailed hand and blazing torch crest of the fallen Order a surreal sight indeed as it reflects upon the polished floor. His own reflection but a mere shadow by comparison, clad in charcoal as he is. "Rowena?" he asks, curiously, "What are you doing?" Exposed on her pedestal now that the eyes of the living have entered the room, Rowena's left with of course no options to hide in the empty space. Frozen atop the dais, she adjusts her grip over the arms of the chair, rings clinking in fidgety fashion. A small, shy smile is offered in explanation and she lifts a finger to point at the glass wreath. "The Baron saw it to completion...a gift, as he called it. I was testing the fit, is all." Nodding to punctuate her sentence, she averts her eyes a bit sheepishly and gestures to either of the Champions of the Flame chairs that flank her feet. "You're welcome to join me, of course..." The Wildcat walks now, attempting to evaluate the situation before him as he moves towards his Duchess, crystal ice-blue eyes frosted with concern. Lonely footsteps echo across the marble floor. "The Baron?" he queries, his gloved hands lingering upon his belt where the hilts of two weapons should be, but apparently are not. "If you ever wondered how my brother felt every day, and why it scares me," he offers, "Now you know." Rowena cocks a brow to this and examines the chair around her with a couple tilts of the head. Smiling playfully though with an essence of something more serious in her eyes, she pats the arm rests. "I find little to fear in this. It's quite comfortable, actually." A little sigh is issued forth and she dips her chin forward, nodding to his person. "Unlike much of your plated second skin...though I see it is lacking a bit of the usual ornamentation. Why is this?" The smooth whispering of silk echoes her inquiry as she stands and ebony pools over the tips of red slippers. "Leather." Serath remarks, playfully matter-of-factly, ascending the two-level dais beyond the first to take up a position by Rowena's side, sitting himself down on the edge of the step that her throne sits upon, looking over the hall itself in turn. He looks quite happy, all told. "With some ringmail underneath it. Don't know it until you try it; it's more comfortable than you think. You know, from here, Fastheld isn't all that high up. From the Imperial Throne, Fastheld seems higher than the Aegis, and you're perched on the very edge with very little to keep you from falling, and nothing to catch you when you land." He seems to have bypassed a certain question. Feet stilled by his now seated side, Rowena reaches out with her hand and lays it gently over the top of his head. Gazing ahead at the rows of chairs opposite the vaulted chamber, she strokes once down through his hair. "There has always been one to catch you, Serath. Even if she may be crushed in the process...." She looks down now to him, glimmers of worriment in her stare. Her lips part to speak; breath caught, but close again as she thinks better of it. The fingers return to their mounted position and come to rest there. "Your visit was well timed...I'd been hoping to catch your ear soon." "You're planning on going on Thayndor Zahir's jaunt beyond the Aegis." The Wildcat states in that usual purr of soft regality, answering the question before it's spoken and then offering an opinion that should have come much later in turn. "I think it's a bad idea," he adds, "And though I won't stop you from going, I will warn you that I won't be able to come with you." His gaze remains on the wall opposite the one behind the throne, as if expecting someone to come through at any moment. Silent for a moment, having clearly not anticipated his knowledge of said discussion with the Zahir, Rowena closes her eyes and lowers her face with submissive acknowledgement of her own foolishness to herself. "Perhaps the Count located Vhramis afterall... unless you've power to read thoughts through time." Tone taut, she removes her hand from his head and steps down from the dais altogether. Evenly-spaced steps bear her across towards the door - it had been left ajar. And with a crack...comes an awful draft. "I did not agree to accompany them. Not yet. It is true that my presence at least as far as Crown's Refuge would be of benefit...but there are many journeys left to finish here. Had Alieron still stood in my stead, I would have been free to venture thus. But he does not. And I am not." Words quaking on that final note, she stands before the door, grips it firmly with both hands, and YANKS. The dull thud echoes throughout the chamber, resonating until there's only silence. "He did," Serath offers in regards to Rowena's initial musing. "And I don't." he adds to answer the one that follows it. Still sat next to the throne, he states these two facts only after the silence has claimed the Grand Hall in that same tone of voice that has been with him through the greatest of joys and the deepest of sorrows in equal measure. Compassionate, reasoning, unjudgmental, and utterly efficacious. "As for Alieron, he wasn't the bastion of solidity you might remember him to be, Row. Which is why a great many things are as they are today; some of the worse, some for the better. House Mikin won't fall apart if you're not here for a few weeks. It didn't the last time, and I'll make sure it doesn't again." It would be longer than a few weeks. He won't turn back until he finds the source of the...thing." Using the door as a sturdy enough object to lean her forehead against, Rowena tips her head forward to do so...until Acumen clinks in protest. Whoops! Jerking her head upright, she removes it carefully from her hair and turns it over in her hands. "What is it I'm really going to achieve here, in this place?" Watching a distorted reflection of a reddened eye in the lapping glass flames, she snorts softly. "I know not how to assemble an 'army'. I've planned best I could the divisions to patrol the various Mikin holdings, but... truly. What men have I to fill the sabatons? Armond. The loyal ten who have followed me from West Bluff. Adaer... should I choose to induct him. And the refugees.. .those amongst them who are not afraid, that is. And they've had much to fear." The circlet is lowered, cradled protectively against her belly and she lets her bare brow at last come to rest on its desired support. "And then there is the enigma that is you...the mystery that I chase, and yet, understand less and less. Where now, are your two companions?" "I gave them to Vhramis." the Prince states with a sincerity that denies all suspicion of misdirected truth or aspersion, sat as he is - hands resting upon his knees - besides a now empty throne. "He seemed to need them more I do, and they seemed to have lost much of the value that others see in them, for some reason." The Wildcat offers a hint of a 'what can you do?' shrug and smile, falling silent for a moment before picking up the threads of conversation. "And there's more to House Mikin than this Keep and the shattered remains of Light's Reach, Rowena. Southwatch is small is maintains a position of importance not far from here. Light's Crossing has flourished and grows larger every day now it has a secure trade link with Hawk's Aerie. In the north, Wedgecrest shines as a diamond of Mikin prowess and resourcefulness. I also hear that the Mikin areas of Wildcat's Landing continue to prosper, maintaining the lowest rate of crime in all of Fastheld." There are more Nobles than yourself, my Duchess, to carry the Mikin torch forward - and if not, then you still have me and all of House Kahar behind you. Not to mention the Light itself." "Wedgecrest and Light's Crossing will be guarded by Trastar's Order, while Light's Reach and Southwatch kept safe under the eyes of the Order of the Flame...order. Of knights, that is. This much I have decided." Pausing, Rowena lifts her head from the moped stance and looks to him questioningly o'er her shoulder. "You gave them to Vhramis...does this mean that the bulk of this cat's prowling days have come to close? Or have the blades merely been replaced by this new found...talent." Gesturing with her hands the shape of a ball, then 'exploding' it, she moves away from the door and slowly back to him and her former perch. "What is it now that this Wildcat, kissed by the Sun, will do with the rest of his days?" The Wildcat shakes his head a little; an amused smile caressing his features. "Each House shall only be permitted one Noble Order of Knights, my Mongoose." he offers by way of Council, "Restricted to twenty men or women who shall, in turn, be supported by Guard Militia stationed in each Township under the influence of that Noble House. My own words, though not quite as written." He waves a hand to dismiss his line of thought, but continues regardless, "You know how those Imperial documents go. It's all grandiose and far more complicated or elaborate than necessary. But those Nobles like their big words, I'll give them that. As for this Wildcat..." Serath falls silent as he contemplates that. "I'm still on the prowl. It's just more complicated these days. When I'm with you, that's my time off. You're the clarity in the middle of the storm." "One Order can be divided into two groups, one for each district as it makes little sense for all twenty to scurry back and forth across the realm...but I digress." Seeking no argument here, Rowena placidly climbs the dais again and sits the circlet to rest in her place on the throne. She'd have to remember its placing, later, for what a dreadful thing to sit upon. Sinking to sit alongside him on the marble, Rowena wishes that maybe she'd eaten a few more of those sweets before Athara swooped into the picture. Silk did little in the ways of padding. "You worry me...this talk of storms, complications. What is it you must do that others cannot? Cannot aid you in, at least, to lessen the burden. I miss having you here." Serath taps his right hand upon his right knee once or twice by way of contemplation; not of what he could say, but if he will in fact say it. However, it *is* Rowena that sits by his side, and the decision is not a difficult one to make. "What if I were to tell you," the Wildcat offers in hushed tones, an affectionate gaze now placed upon his beloved Mongoose, silks and all, "That Kas'arath - the Ravager - was not what one might understand to actually BE the Ravager?" Well, the answer was simple enough. Rowena would be confused, that's what. Again. "If the Ravager did not 'ravage' our towns in accordance to the name we had given it, then what be the Ravager true? Regardless of its name, the creature is finished...hence the rise of the Instrumentalist." Or so it made sense. Shifting her weight more to one hip, she shoulders the edge of the chair's seat and rests her head lightly on the cushion to look at him with scrutiny. There are a few painful moments of silence that flow in the wake of Rowena's reasoning until Serath finally speak again. "Sera'tharalax doesn't think that's the case." he offers upon the back of an very uneasy sigh. "The way I understand it, Kas'arath - the Ravager - and Aisha'taria - the Dragoness they found under Halo - weren't true Drakes in the way you and I are. You have to think of them as illusions made flesh; avatars of their true forms. From what I'm told, they were in conflict to resolve who would return "here" in living, breathing creatures once more. Thankfully Kalath'aria's avatar won that duel, and this Kalath'aria returned to Fastheld in her true form. Had Kas'arath won... well, then I don't think Fastheld would be much more than dust and memory right now." "But it /was/ resolved...you've said it yourself. What then, is there more to do in the matter? Aside from moving on, that is." With eyebrows knit together closely, Rowena extends a hand in search of his own. "/That/ is the main reason I hesitate to breach the Aegis a second time. It would mean being parted from you again...for an eternity, should the expedition go poorly. But I intend to send another in my place, if she will go. Her life has seen children grown and gone...and her chapter draws to an end. But mine has many more pages to be writ. To continue with life and dwell less on the past sorrows. You should do the same." Offering a soft, warm smile of sadness, she inhales deeply the cold air before letting it leak slowly back out from her lungs. "What more ties then, do you have to this talk of Drakes?" The level and even look that Serath now places upon Rowena speaks more of the sincerity of the words that are to follow than any tone of voice or proof of reasoning could ever hope to accomplish. "Xil'varath is trying to come back." True, the name Xil'varath was not one known in her vocabulary, but Rowena is wise enough to discern from his sudden note of severity that who/whatever this Xil'varatharatharax was, his or her coming was not a welcomed event. And so it is that her head lifts, posture straightens, and knees curl aside so that she may meet his stare more evenly herself. With a childlike whisper, she grasps a gloved hand. "But this is a war between Drakes and bodies so much larger than our own...the Church failed to fend it off last time. Surely your place in this is not to confront the creature." "Kas'arath was but a measure of Xil'varath's true power," Serath whispers, speaking as if he'd witnessed such horrors first hand even though the DragonLich's reign was what one might assume to have been far into the past. "Sera'tharalax gave her life when Xil'varath was a living creature to entrap him the first time, and Kalath'aria did the same during the Cataclysm, but Sera has reason to think that this "Cult" that the Imperial Watch have been running into from time to time is more than just a fetish of bored Noblemen and dreamless Freelanders." Rowena's hand in his own, he smiles and gives her a squeeze of reassurance, "But you're right: Mine is not to confront him, because I wouldn't do so much as give him pause to consider my actions. Time is something we have on our side; Xil'varath's last major chance to return was foiled by Zolor Zahir, believe it or not, and getting back to "here" from "there" is apparently not that easy." A pause, another smile, and Serath leans over to gently kiss Rowena, affection and comfort deep within the core of that regal purr as he pulls away. "Fastheld is currently an Empire of darkness. The Light is but a candle amidst the overwhelming depths of night, with the even the Church of True Light too blind to see where they're going. As it stands, if Xil'varath *were* to find a way back, there would be little to stop him. My ties are with the Light, Rowena: I plan on bringing it to back to the people of this realm." "All of these things of which you speak are well beyond my knowing..." Rowena murmurs, head tilting after the kiss to rest against his shoulder. "But if it is as you say... then bring it back to them you shall. The Light kept by your side in the face of death's darkness... and so it is your ally. It is just as I had prayed." Breathing in the faint scent of the outdoors that seemed to follow him eternally, at least by her nose' judgment, Rowena rights her head a few moments later and returns the kiss with a bit more lingering. "You are still my Serath... and that is all I need know." But ever remains the haunting depths of solemn understanding in her eyes, amidst the flecks of green. What need be known was not always what was in fact known, or what was feared would be made known. ---- ''Return to Season 5 (2007) Category:Logs